


Exauhstion in the Studio, Geese in the Streets

by MetasActReon



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Broadcast, But it's not noticeable..., Carlos Does the Show, Carlos is Autistic, Cecil Is Not Described, Cecil is exauhsted, Cecil is tired, Geese, Like really exauhsted, M/M, Weather, intern death, tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 22:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13820652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetasActReon/pseuds/MetasActReon
Summary: Cecil hasn't had any sleepin days!A little science accident has given him forced insomnia and things aren't going well for our favorite radio host. Oh, also, geese have decided to stop by Night Vale during their migration.





	Exauhstion in the Studio, Geese in the Streets

     “Welcome... to Night Vale.” Cecil presses the button to cue the music. He leans back in his chair, feeling like a librarian had his way with him and he somehow is still alive out of sheer lack of mercy. He hasn't slept in six days, not since that... damned experiment of Carlos’s that was in the fridge fell out and entirely coated him in the bad kind of science. He is doing his best to sound normal to keep everyone from worrying, but he is absolutely exhausted. If this doesn't clear up soon... If Carlos doesn't discover a cure s-

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

     Carlos jolts up and switches his microphone back on. “Alright, so today we have, uh, oh, geese have been making their migration but have decided to staaaa-” Cecil brings a hand to his mouth to stop the yawn. “Sorry, listeners... They have stopped in our nice community and have been quite the gracious tourists, helping out our economy. They seem to be rather hungry, so if you are eating out tonight you may want to prepare for an extra long wait. Dana made a statement saying, ‘These geese are our guests and we should all-” Cecil's broadcast is once again interrupted by a yawn. Cecil frowns, rather unhappy with himself. “Where was I?... Oh, ‘Treat the geese like members of our own community.’ The secret police have agreed to frown and shake their heads at anyone who performs our customary ‘Outsiders, interlopers’ greetings.”

     Cecil pauses to try and gather his energy before moving on to the next segment. “An announcement: Make sure to stop by... Night Vale High School tomorrow night around 7:30 and cheer on the Theatre’s production of The Br- _uuh_ , The Brothers Grimm: Accurate Historical _De_ pictions... Oh, and remember, theatre goers, to bring the collection of dead bugs collecting in your lights or other appropriate snacks. You wouldn't want the _aa_ -actors taking a bite out of you instead, now would you.

     “And now, _aaaawm_ , a word from our sponsors.” Cecil pushes a button for the first sponsor of the night and turns off his microphone.

     “Science will be the death of me,” he groans loudly, allowing his eyes to fall closed as he leans back. He can't sleep, but faking it helps a little. His mind just wants to shut off. If he does in fact exist, he wants to cease existing. Chemically induced insomnia is a torture tactic, he decides, and he is going to go to the secret police about unregulated torture once this broadcast is over! ... No, he won't. That would get Carlos into too much trouble. He’ll just have to sign up to dish out some counter torture instead, because Carlos does deserve some payback.

     As the sponsorship wraps up, telling listeners how the only way to stop a bear burglar from destroying your home you should order a large Big Rico's date night package where the bear will be obliged to sit down and have a nice night with you due to forced social constructs; Cecil switches his microphone back on.

     “Welcome back, listeners. The senior center wanted me to announce that yoga has been cancelled this week due to glowing mold. In fact, the entire senior center is off limits until the Sheriff's Secret Police or Scientists declare the building is safe.”

     A new paper appears on his desk, updating him on the main news story of the night. He’s thankful. His third eye had stopped sending him regular broadcast visions two days ago and it was rather embarrassing yesterday when he didn't inform everyone how the treasure hunters had been eaten by the great fortunes that they were hauling out of the hole they found in the sand wastes.

     “Ok, so, this just in,” he mutters through a yawn. He clears his throat, frowning at how he is not keeping up his even voice even after resting his eyes. “The geese have seemed to multiply and businesses are no longer able to keep caught up with the influx of business. I... I think that's a good thing. Things have been so slow lately, it's time we, _hraaaaarh,_ make up for it before we all get reeducated. We...” Cecil glances tiredly at the window. “Hold on... Intern Rebecca is missing.” He notices another paper and picks it up. “Uh, citizens of Night Vale, it seems we are now experiencing a mild crisis. I will explain to you... _with tra-affic_.

     “You are driving. You are driving. There's a bump. There's another bump. The road runs red with blood and feathers. The geese... the geese are taking over. Run. Grab your government issued guns and run...” Cecil runs his hand through his hair, trying to keep his eyes open. “The geese are no longer gracious tourists, but an infestation of unrelenting fowl, demanding services from anyone. Whoever doesn't perform as desired will be attacked, and turned into 20 more geese. _Aruuuh._ Do not allow this to continue. The city council has issued a declaration, that this is goose season. Whoever gets the most kills will be rewarded with a year of, Oh! _writing utensil_ privileges. Looks like you artists should get out there.

     “This has been traffic.

     “Now, for another sponsor.”

     Cecil flips the next sponsor segment on, ignoring the existential crisis message that seeks to convince people to go to Applebees. This broadcast is a disaster. He’s been speaking so slow and yawning so much that most of the listeners were probably asleep already. He rests his face in his hands. The sponsor message flips off and he goes to flip on the microphone to realize he forget to even turn it off. At least he had been quiet.

     “It’s been a while, listeners. I... I hope Rebecca is alright. I don't know, where she’s gone. I- **_Ah!_ ** _”_ Cecil jumps, suddenly feeling a hand on his shoulder. He glances up and sees the face of perfection. He grins tiredly. “This just in, listeners! Carlos - you know, The Scientist; is here with me live at the station.”

     “I'm just bringing you some Starbucks,” Carlos announces, rubbing the back of his neck. Carlos’s clothes are ragged and torn, making what is probably the hundredth lab coat he has lost to every day Night Vale. “Also, I’m not John Peters, you know, the farmer.” He frowns. He had meant to say ‘you know’ but not the last part. He shrugs it aside, figuring he must be too use to it. “It's a quadruple shot so that you can hopefully get your mind to function again.”

     “Oh, he's just so sweet, listeners,” Cecil giggles, even more like a giddy school girl in his exhausted haze. “How can I stay mad at him when he's doing his best to make up for that whole mishap. He’s just the greatest. How did I get so lucky to end up with _him!?_ ”

     “This geese business is crazy,” Carlos declares, letting his blush pass over him barely acknowledged. This is a common experience when he comes over to the station, after all, and Cecil isn’t exactly able to control himself as well as usual right now. “I would have been here earlier, but once I got your coffee the exit was too full of geese. I had to be escorted out the back by barista Veronica. She was taking all this rather well, actually, pausing with me to share in a collective ‘Hmmm’ when we got to the back door and saw just how bad it was outside. Oh, Cecil, getting here was _horrible_. Geese everywhere, pecking at my lab coat and one yanked at my hair on a fly by. Rebecca came out and helped me get through to the door of the station - she’s an amazing shot with those dual pistols even though it’s been scientifically proven that shooting like that is quite inaccurate - but I didn't see her when I finally got in. I was going to go out and find her, but the geese tried to break into the station so I had to barricade the door. It’s a mess out there!”

     “Rebecca is a strong intern. We'll see her soon. Um, Listeners, while, _aaahhmm_ , this gets sorted out, I take you to the... the [ wea-ah-ther ](https://youtu.be/XmfJiDCPSb0?list=PLWSfmKsYU2V2ee99ksQsC6D4JnGUS4W4d).”

     Cecil turns off his microphone, presses a button and stands up, removing his headphones; before hugging Carlos. “Oh, _th-ank_ you _soo_ much,” he utters, his voice nothing like it had been just a few seconds ago, more drawn out and less articulate.

     Carlos had noticed how exhausted Cecil was when he had heard the start of the broadcast, but _wow_ , Carlos hadn't realized just how much the radio host has been successfully concealing. “Cecil, here, drink this. I ordered it the way you like, just the extra shots are different.”

     “Thank you,” Cecil whispers, nodding, before slowly pulling away. His eyes are bloodshot, all of them. He looks unkempt, even in his unitard. He takes the drink and sits back down. He lifts the cup to his lips to take a sip before his entire body goes limp, the now lukewarm coffee splashing all over his lap.

 _“Cecil!”_ Carlos cries, grabbing his shoulder and giving him a shake. No reaction. Carlos checks for a pulse, and he finds one. He sighs in relief, calming down. Taking a closer, calmer look at him, he realizes that Cecil had just finally fallen unconscious. He gives Cecil’s forehead a gentle kiss before realizing that this is not exactly a good thing.

     Carlos glances around the room and then through the window. Station Management-  _oh no_.

     He glances through the window to Station Management's door. If the weather ends and the broadcast goes silent geese may be the least of his worries, the least of the town’s worries. He knew how terrifying Cecil found whatever executive monsters lurked behind that door to be, and Cecil wasn’t so mindlessly afraid of anything that wasn’t worth being mindlessly afraid of... Carlos had seen them on a rampage in that station before... What if they took out their anger on the whole town!?

     Carlos quickly runs out of the broadcasting room and to the entrance. He glances out the window and just sees absolute carnage as people battle geese. No sign of Rebecca. He shakes his head before running back into the booth. As much as he would love to let Cecil just sleep, he really needs it, Carlos finds himself shaking the radio host. “Come on, Cecil, you need to finish the show!”

     The music seems to speed up from what Carlo’s could make out from the headphones. How much time has passed? Carlos had realized long ago the Cecil’s shows and probably the very room they are now in is a time anomaly within the town that was already a time anomaly. One weather could take minutes, while another weather could take a week. It wouldn’t sound as if it had been slowed or repeated, but Carlos could remember listening to a 5 minute song only once for an entire hour before. It was a happening he had tried to study before but never really got anywhere with. Too many things in Night Vale where li-

     The weather is over.

     Carlos scrambles and switches on the microphone, not even pausing to think. “Uum, hi, uh, Night Vale. This is Carlos talking, speaking. Um... The Scientist, uh....” He fumbles with the headphones and pulls them on. “Uh, so, Cecil seems to have finally gotten over that, well, mishap that happened a while ago,” he laughs nervously, trying to jab Cecil awake with his elbow. “He barely had a sip of his coffee before he went out like a light uh... being swallowed by the void?” Did that sound right? He hopes it sounded right. Did that sound Cecily or just plain stupid? Carlos has gotten a lot better talking on air over the years, but he has always had someone he was talking to, whether it be Cecil or Kevin. If he screws something up, who can save him from the wrath of Station Management?

     Carlos suddenly notices a paper that he is sure hadn’t been there before and sighs. _Just read what is on the paper and everything should be alright,_ he thinks to himself. _Just like reading a colleague's notes when they were unable to make a meeting._

     Carlos clears his throat. “S-so, um...” he mutters grabbing the paper and accidently holding it upside down. He fumbles with it, turning it the right way. “Uh, Night Vale citizens flooded the streets, guns in hands as they took down the terrible geese. They extricated the fowl beasts, forcing their surviving numbers to fly on. The winner of the contest...

     “Oh, um, congratulations Rebecca. That’s amazing to hear you- uh, sorry.

     “The winner of the contest was an intern at Night Vale’s Community Radio, Intern Rebecca. However,” Carlos wavers and swallows, knowing nothing good came from a ‘however’ involving an intern. “However... The geese came back to get one last citizen, Rebecca’s little sister Sarah. Rebecca came to her sister’s rescue but... by the time the geese were satisfied with their vengeance, they were 20 more in number. Sarah was safe but... R-Rebecca was go-ne...” Carlos’s voice cracks as he wipes tears from his eyes.

     There is nothing about her sign off in the paper, but he has heard these enough. “T-to Rebecca’s friends and family... I am so sorry for your loss. We - we regret to inform you that she...” Carlos had always been baffled at how emotionless Cecil said these things, but now he understands that Cecil has to be. This is really hard to say. “-was lost in the line of community radio duty... but also familial duty and a-a duty to this town... She will be missed here... well, everywhere in town...”

     Carlos takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Station Management isn’t reacting in ways that were too threatening, so he figures he will take that as a good sign that they are accepting his work.

     “Thank you... to everyone who risked their lives to save Night Vale and... Thank you, Rebecca. Your sister is safe because of you... G... G-going on...”

     Carlos glances around. There are no more writings to read. Isn’t he supposed to- oh. He snatches a small note card, leaning across Cecil’s limp body. “Ok it, um, seems that, uh... I-I can't pronounce this. _Something_ poems of the night, featuring heavy breathing and cries of terror... I've, uh, got to get Cecil home, guys. So, um, Goodnight, Night Vale... Goodnight?” Carlos glances at the Station Management door and sighs, glad to see it still closed and nothing banging against it.

     Carlos slips the headphones off and switches off the microphone, considering this a success despite his frayed nerves. “Come on, Cecil,” he sighs, giving the man a shake. Cecil murmurs incoherently, his head rolling onto his shoulder... and seems to only fall into a deeper sleep. Carlos exhales, defeated, and tries to pull the man off the chair so as to attempt carrying him. The door opens and in walked an ang- _Erika._ In walks an Erika.

     “Josie sent me,” they muttered, kneeling down and picking Cecil up.

     “Thanks,” Carlos bows a little, not entirely sure what to do when in the presence of an a- _Erika._ “His car is just outside.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for this one shot includes this picture: [ http://callmesnuffles.tumblr.com/post/57662177494/skyskytheinkyone-im-not-sure-how-to-go ] and just how terrifying large groups of geese are... Like, seriously. Google the pictures of 'geese in streets.' *shudders*
> 
> Today's Proverb: Crime doesn't pay... if you get caught.


End file.
